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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25465081">Connected To The Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoknows/pseuds/whoknows'>whoknows</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>future fic [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Explicit Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Near Future</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:49:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,059</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25465081</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoknows/pseuds/whoknows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Your stage cue is way too close for you to be wearing that look you’re wearing,” Louis informs him. He can’t stop himself from looking up at Harry through his eyelashes, the silk of Harry’s dress shirt brushing against the backs of his knuckles.</p><p>“Twenty minutes,” Harry agrees. His breath is minty from the gum he was chewing earlier, fresh and warm. “Twenty minutes can be a long time, baby.”</p><p>This time, Louis has to force himself to roll his eyes. “Not nearly long enough for the way you always want to fuck me.”</p><p>--------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>A coda for Swallow The Knife</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>future fic [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844572</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>565</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Connected To The Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello there! A lovely friend of mine asked me if I was going to do anything for the 10 year anniversary of 1D, and originally I wasn't. But then I thought I should do a drabble, and I remembered that I had this coda started from a long time ago. Swallow The Knife was also posted in July a year ago, so it's kind of an anniversary for that as well! It felt right as the most canon fic I've written, so I hope you enjoy! (and also maybe something to tide you over if no new content from the boys is released today!)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What do you think?” Harry asks, spreading his arms wide and spinning in a slow circle.</p><p>Louis tilts his head, considering. “I liked the blue one better.”</p><p>Harry rolls his eyes, dropping his arms to his sides and coming to a stop. “Thanks,” he says dryly. He’s got twenty minutes until he goes on stage, and instead of using that time for anything productive he’s here, asking Louis for his opinion on his stage clothes as though he actually has time to change if Louis disapproves.</p><p>“You’re so <i>sensitive</i> today,” Louis says mockingly, rolling his eyes right back, but he gets out of his seat anyway, crossing the room in his bare feet and tugging on the lapels of Harry’s suit jacket. Harry sways forward a little, bracing himself with a hand against Louis’ shoulder.</p><p>Quickly, him bracing himself turns into him sliding his hand around the back of Louis’ neck, the metal of his rings cool against Louis’ skin. He’s got that look in his eyes, the one that hints at fire and ash, and Louis reminds himself that he only has twenty minutes before he has to be on stage.</p><p>“Your stage cue is way too close for you to be wearing that look you’re wearing,” Louis informs him. He can’t stop himself from looking up at Harry through his eyelashes, the silk of Harry’s dress shirt brushing against the backs of his knuckles.</p><p>“Twenty minutes,” Harry agrees. His breath is minty from the gum he was chewing earlier, fresh and warm. “Twenty minutes can be a long time, baby.”</p><p>This time, Louis has to force himself to roll his eyes. “Not nearly long enough for the way you always want to fuck me.”</p><p>It’s true, despite the interest Louis’ cock has taken in these proceedings. </p><p>“Who says that I’m going to fuck you?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow. He’s still got one hand curled around the back of Louis’ neck, uses the other one to walk Louis backwards until he’s flush up against a wall.</p><p>Louis’ scoff is weak. It’s ridiculous, how turned on he is. Harry’s barely even touching him. They haven’t even <i>kissed</i> yet. And it’s not like it’s been a while since they had sex, either. Harry’s really into morning sex, despite the fact that he always has to spend ten minutes waking Louis up for it. “You always want to fuck me.”</p><p>“True,” Harry concedes, dipping his head closer, until their mouths are mere centimeters apart. “Right now I’m just gonna finger you, though.”</p><p>“Who says I’m gonna let you?” Louis challenges breathlessly.</p><p>Harry slides his hand down to squeeze at Louis’ arse, over his trackies. “I do,” Harry says simply. “Don’t you wanna make me happy, baby? Don’t you wanna know that I can’t stop thinking about you while I’m up onstage, that when I get back here you’ll be prepped and ready and you can just slide down onto my cock without having to wait for it?”</p><p>“No,” Louis says stubbornly, clutching at the material of Harry’s jacket so hard he think it might only be a few seconds away from tearing.</p><p>“Really?” Harry asks, tugging at Louis’ trackies until they start sliding down his hips, baring his arse to Harry’s wandering hands. “Why’d you wear these, then? You forget to put on pants this morning?”</p><p>Two fingers slip between Louis’ cheeks, rub over his hole dry and firm. Before he can stop himself, Louis rocks down against the pressure, thighs spreading to give Harry more space. </p><p>“Or did you just put them on to tease me?” Harry continues, putting more pressure against Louis’ hole, until the tip of one finger sinks in. Louis gasps high in his throat, squeezing his eyes closed and digging his nails into Harry’s chest. It’s dry, but Louis is still a little wet and open from earlier, and if Harry really wanted to he could probably manage to get two fingers in before it would actually start to hurt. “Because you know I can’t stop looking at your arse when you wear these.”</p><p>Louis has mostly lost track of the conversation, too focused on that tiny part of Harry that’s in him, not nearly enough. </p><p>“Don’t you wanna give it to me, baby?” Harry murmurs, mouth so close Louis can almost taste his breath. “Still be able to feel me inside you while I’m up on stage, know that I can barely think about anything other than you while I’m up there?”</p><p>Louis’ nod is jerky, lips parting just in time to take the kiss Harry lays on him, hot and brutal. It’s all encompassing, the way Harry kisses, and he tastes like spearmint and coffee and – god. Two weeks is too long to be apart.</p><p>“Knew you would,” Harry croons into his mouth, barely glancing down as he tears open a packet of lube. He’s so cocky when he’s got his stage clothes on, even more than normal. Had that lube just sitting around and waiting for Louis to agree to let him finger him, so sure that he would that he hadn’t even bothered to take it out of his blazer pocket before he went onstage. So stupid and confident. One day he’s going to get them caught and it’s going to be in the news for weeks.</p><p>“Don’t go getting full of yourself just because I agreed to this,” Louis says sharply, wiggling his hips so his trackies finish sliding down his thighs and he can kick them the rest of the way off. “You’ve got a big fucking ego.”</p><p>Someone has to keep him in check. Louis is having a hard time doing it right now. Maybe Mitch can knock some sense into him later.</p><p>“Alright, baby,” Harry says, hitching Louis’ thigh up around his waist, so he’s forced to teeter on the toes of his other leg to prevent himself from tipping over. “Prefer it when you’re full of me anyway.”</p><p>Louis barely even has time to groan before Harry’s sliding a finger inside him. He’s quick about it for once, not pulling his punches, has it all the way in with no effort. It wouldn’t normally be this easy – they had sex this morning, sure, but that was hours ago and Louis had showered afterwards, can only tolerate Harry’s come dripping out of him for so long. It’s only this easy now because Harry had kept slipping a couple fingers into him throughout the rest of the day, just for a few slow strokes here and there. Louis had let him because he’s easy, and needy, and he’s always thought that hotel rooms should be taken advantage of. There’s something so lovely about getting fingered lazily in a hotel room while the telly is on in the background.</p><p>“No puns,” Louis demands, already gone breathless from how Harry’s finger feels inside of him. “’m letting you do this, no puns.”</p><p>There’s a split second of pressure against his rim before another finger slips inside his hole, thick and so fucking adept at reading Louis’ body. Even if Louis hadn’t been in love with him for the last eleven years, he’d keep Harry for the sex alone. No one gives it to him like Harry can.</p><p>“S’not a pun,” Harry murmurs against his mouth, already back to kissing him. “Love watching the way you look when you’ve got a part of me inside of you.”</p><p>He doesn’t say <i>always look so pretty</i>, but it’s easy enough to read on his face. Louis’ heart thumps in his chest, half from exertion and half from the sheer amount of love he has for this fucking dumbarse. Maybe also a little bit from how good it feels as Harry rubs his fingers against his prostate, intentionally slow.</p><p>“You have to hurry up,” Louis says, unable to stop himself from clenching down around Harry’s fingers. There’s a clock on the wall opposite them, ticking away. Louis is having a hard time concentrating on it but he thinks they only have eight minutes left. Tardiness is only acceptable when it’s Louis running late.</p><p>“I’d cancel the whole show for you if I had to,” Harry says, but he picks up the pace a little, the silky material of his trousers sliding against the backs of Louis’ bare thighs as he shifts, rocking his hips like he can’t help it.</p><p>“Don’t say shit like that,” Louis demands on a noise that’s all too close to a whimper, slamming his eyes closed and reaching down to take his cock in his hand. The worst part of it is that he knows Harry means it, that he’d do it if he had to, and somehow that’s also the best part.</p><p>He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being this easy for Harry. Right now that’s a really hard fact to mind.</p><p>“I’m gonna be thinking about you while I’m onstage,” Harry tells him. He’s still fingering Louis like he’s got all the time in the world, unwilling to be rushed about it. If they were going to fuck he’d probably have put in a third finger by now, get Louis open enough for his cock. He’s so bloody good with them Louis is going to come regardless. “About the way you sound when you come, sweet and saying my name. Gonna dedicate a song to you, baby, which one do you want?”</p><p>He stops talking while he waits for an answer, pressing his fingertips more firmly against all the best places like that’s going to help Louis’ head stop spinning. Louis can barely think, can barely even breathe with how close they are, stroking his cock like his life depends on it. </p><p>“All of ‘em,” Louis responds breathlessly. “Want – want all your songs.”</p><p>Wants every single song Harry’s ever written to be about him, for him. He’s selfish about it, he knows, and he doesn’t care. Wants them all.</p><p>“God, baby,” Harry sighs, nudging Louis’ face back up so he can bite at his throat, sucking at an old mark he’s already left there, freshening it up, “They’re all yours. Every goddamn one of them.”</p><p>Louis’ belly swoops, sending him closer to the edge. If he concentrates, he can feel the press of Harry’s cock against his thigh, hard and demanding. He’s going to have a hell of a time hiding it when he goes out onstage. </p><p>“Are you gonna tell them?” Louis slurs, trying to catch Harry’s mouth again, thumbing over the head of his cock. He’s about to come, and he wants Harry to say it first.</p><p>“Tell ‘em about the boy I’ve been in love with for the past decade?” Harry asks, kissing Louis again firmly and quickly, matching the movement of his fingers. “Baby, they already know. Already scream it from the rooftop every chance I get.”</p><p>It’s exactly what Louis wanted. It only takes a few more strokes of Harry’s fingers before he comes, trying to catch the mess in his own hand so it won’t splatter all over Harry’s suit. Harry kisses him through it, hot and relentless. Maybe even a little desperate.</p><p>As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door, brief but loud. “Two minutes, Harry!” someone calls without even trying the doorknob.</p><p>Alright, maybe it literally <i>was</i> on cue. Harry always tells him he can get loud during sex.</p><p>“My toes are numb,” Louis whispers, curling them the best he can as Harry slides his fingers out. There’s a part of him, that deeply selfish part, that wants to make Harry make good on his word and cancel the whole damn show. Just because he wants to be loved right, fucked hard and put to bed still coming down from the high of it all.</p><p>“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Harry says, pressing a hard kiss to Louis’ mouth, fast about it. He doesn’t let go of Louis’ thigh, fingers flexing against his skin, and he probably won’t until Louis tells him to.</p><p>Louis sighs from the back of his throat, sliding his come-covered hand underneath Harry’s blazer to his side, where the stain probably won’t show, shoving at him. “You’re going to be late,” he says. Harry finally lets go, makes sure both of Louis’ feet are on solid ground before he takes a step back.</p><p>“You’re the love of my whole life,” Harry informs him, bodily moving Louis out of the way of the door. Louis has just started cracking a smile when Harry continues, “Also, I felt that, and if there’s a headline tomorrow about me doing my shows covered in come I’m gonna sue you.”</p><p>He yanks the door open and bolts through it. Louis yells after him, “Not if I sue you first!”</p><p>As far as comebacks go, it’s not his best. He did just get fingered within an inch of his life, though, so he’ll give himself that one.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He misses the first two songs of Harry’s set trying to put himself back together. The heat in his veins has settled into a warm flush in his belly and his fingertips, and if he’s being honest he still feels a little bit out of it. He gets himself a drink before wandering up into the balcony. </p><p>Up here, the music is loud but not pounding, settling into his body like it belongs there. Harry’s playing Watermelon Sugar, his whole body into it as he shakes it for the crowd. Louis sets his cup down on the floor before leaning against the railing, folding his arms on top of it and resting his head on his hands. He could go for a nap right about now, but if he did Harry would pout about him not watching the show later. Even though it <i>is</i> technically Harry’s fault that he even needs a nap right now.</p><p>Harry’s cock doesn’t even seem to be making much of an appearance, either. He better be thinking about Louis right now or Louis is going to be the one who’s mad. </p><p>A couple more songs go by before Harry stops to address the crowd. He’s got the mic cord wound around his wrist, pulled taut against his skin, and even from here the sight makes Louis swallow hard. Harry’s got no problem being naked, so there’s something about him onstage in an actual suit that’s always gotten to Louis. He thinks the two must be correlated somehow.</p><p>“There’s someone very special to me here tonight,” Harry begins, looking out at the crowd, purposefully not looking up even though he must know exactly where Louis is right now. “A boy who wanted me to tell you all that this entire show is dedicated to him, which it is.”</p><p>Louis smiles, tucking it down into the crook of his elbow so no one will see.</p><p>“He wants me to say that every song is for him,” Harry continues, “And, y’know, it is, but there’s one song that’s especially for him. This particular boy – well, you all know who the boy is by now, yeah?”</p><p>A deafening scream erupts from the crowd. Louis laughs, eyes still fixed on Harry. They’ve been out for pretty much the entire course of their relationship, and this is far from the first time Harry’s made this speech – or a speech very similar to this – but it gets Louis every time. Not because it’s actually funny, but for the casual, definitive way Harry talks about them. Like they’re a foregone conclusion and always have been.</p><p>“Anyway, this song is dedicated to that boy, and it will be every time I play it, no matter how irritated he is with me at any given moment. Here’s Sweet Creature.”</p><p>Louis’ smile is entirely too sappy to be out in public. He tucks it down into his arms where no one will be able to see it, and doesn’t even regret the fact that they didn’t get to have proper sex before Harry’s set. Harry doesn’t look up until to the balcony until the very last verse, keeping his gaze fixed on the crowd, occasionally looking down at his guitar strings. When he does, Louis flips him off lazily, head still resting on his arms.</p><p>Harry’s voice breaks as he struggles to hold in his laughter, and yeah, Louis could do a lot worse.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Louis leaves the balcony before the set is over, slipping easily through backstage hallways until he’s back in Harry’s dressing room. Music is thumping through the walls, faint but still audible. He kicks his shoes off again before curling up on a couch, letting his eyes drift closed. There’s no telling how long it’s going to be until Harry makes his way back. Even when he’s got the best intentions he tends to get sidetracked by people wanting to congratulate him or have a little chat, and he’s too polite to brush them off.</p><p>After a couple of minutes, the music goes quiet. From this distance, Louis can’t tell whether the crowd is still screaming or not, the abrupt silence kind of jarring. Anyone who’s not Harry knows to knock before they enter, so Louis feels safe rolling onto his back and putting his hands under his shirt, thumbing at his nipples gently. He’s not going to get naked, not without Harry here, but the touch feels nice, gets arousal simmering in his belly.</p><p>It’s a bus night tonight, not a hotel one, but Louis figures they’ve got a couple hours until it’s time to get on the road. Harry doesn’t usually start something he doesn’t have time to finish. Then, after the sex and maybe a bit of weed, Harry will roll him into his bunk and keep him warm and sated until morning. It sounds kind of like a honeymoon.</p><p>He gets distracted thinking about it, about what the differences between his and Harry’s ideal versions of a honeymoon would be. They’ve been a lot of places, even just the two of them, and Louis would be happy with two weeks of sex at home with zero interruptions. Harry, though, Harry probably wants to go somewhere tropical, where it’s warm and he has an excuse to keep Louis nearly naked the entire time.</p><p>He gets so into the fantasy of all the ways daydream-Harry would shower him with love and affection on their honeymoon that he nearly doesn’t notice real-Harry coming into the room. He does, of course, because neither of them know how to tone it down for a while after they’ve performed, and Harry’s loud as he enters. Louis doesn’t say anything, though, fingers linked together on his belly, still underneath his shirt, blinking drowsily at the ceiling.</p><p>“Baby,” Harry says, coming to a halt before he reaches the couch. “What are you doing?”</p><p>He sounds confused. Louis turns his head a little, just enough that Harry comes into his line of vision. “D’you wanna fuck me in Anguilla?”</p><p>“I wanna fuck you everywhere,” Harry answers easily, sitting down on the floor so he can pull his boots off one at a time. “Why? You wanna go to the Caribbean Islands?”</p><p>Boots off, he leans back, palms flat against the floor behind him. He’s a sweaty mess, chest glistening where even more of his buttons have come undone, a section of his hair lying flat against his scalp, still out of breath and red-cheeked.</p><p>Louis bites at the corner of his cheek, drinking it in. Even if he hadn’t been hard from how he’d been touching himself before Harry walked in, he would be now.</p><p>“No,” Louis says. “Well, maybe. Was just thinking that you’d wanna go somewhere warm on our honeymoon so you could keep me barefoot and naked.”</p><p>Harry cocks an eyebrow at him, sweet and amused even if he has no idea what Louis is talking about. “Am I missing something here?” he wonders out loud. “I don’t remember either of us getting down on one knee.”</p><p>“Pretty sure I remember getting down on my knees for you this morning,” Louis shoots back. If there was a blanket draped across the back of this couch everything would be perfect. He’d be able to pull it down over him without having to give up any of their bickering, stay nice and warm while Harry’s lounging on the floor instead of on top of him.</p><p>“You say it as if I could ever forget your mouth on me,” Harry murmurs, and <i>oh</i>, that’s his sex voice coming out to play. “Don’t think that counts as a proposal though, sweetheart. You tryin’ to tell me something?”</p><p>Louis isn’t, but. “Dunno,” he shrugs, rolling onto his side to face Harry. If his shirt happens to roll up in the process, exposing a few inches of skin, well. He’s hardly to blame for that, is he? “Always figured you’d wanna put a ring on it before I could start getting any second thoughts.”</p><p>Harry’s mouth twists, fighting down a smile. He sits up properly, crossing his legs as he starts undoing the rest of his shirt buttons. “So you’re expecting me to be the one to pop the question, that’s what you’re saying?” he questions. “When you know how I feel about boys as pretty as you being on their knees.”</p><p>A sharp, piercing flash of heat throbs in Louis’ belly. It’s almost a command, that, and if Harry had actually fucked him before the show, Louis would be on his knees right now. Harry doesn’t do any of the things that are guaranteed to make Louis spacy and out of it afterwards unless he’s still going to be there for that part, but a quick, rough fuck doesn’t do that to him. It does, however, make him wanton and needy, and being fucked and then left to watch Harry stage-fuck a mic stand for an hour always makes him so much more compliant about doing the things Harry tells him to.</p><p>“Sure,” Louis agrees, scratching at his hip quickly. He has to push his trackies down a bit to get at the spot that’s itchy, but that’s not his fault either. “I also know how much you like it when my mouth is full when I’m on my knees, though.”</p><p>“Mm.” The sound Harry makes is less of an agreement than it is just a sound of pure hunger, devouring Louis with his eyes as he pushes his shirt and jacket off all at once, working at getting himself naked.</p><p>It’d be funny if it wasn’t so hot. Harry’s sexual about performing in a way that Louis just can’t relate to, and he’s always, <i>always</i> horny after a show. Louis never realized the extent of it back when they were in the band, and now that he knows, he has to commend Harry for all the times he resisted the urge to get Louis up against a wall and fuck him until he cried.</p><p>Louis has lost count of the amount of times Harry’s done that in the last year. He’s not one to deny his tendency to get a little weepy during sex, but that tendency is always showcased best after a gig.</p><p>“Is that what you want right now?” Louis asks, hooking two fingers into the waist of his sweatpants and tugging them lower, uncaring that it must look completely intentional now. He hadn’t bothered putting his pants back on after Harry fingered him, so the cotton slides against his skin easily, dipping low against his groin. “Want me to get on my knees for you?”</p><p>Harry blinks, eyes focusing again. He runs a hand through his still damp hair, pushing it back. “Christ, you’re like a siren or something,” he mutters, half awed, the other half amused. “Don’t know how I went ten years without fucking you.”</p><p>Sometimes, they’re so in sync it almost seems impossible. Louis can’t help giggling a little, pressing a hand over his mouth to stifle it.</p><p>“C’mere, baby.” Harry says it like it’s a request, but there’s no hiding that undercurrent of steel in his voice. He holds a hand out, beckoning, big and familiar, rings glinting under the harsh lighting in this room.</p><p>Stubbornly, Louis shakes his head, scrunching down a little further on the couch, letting one leg down so his foot nearly touches the floor. “Not gonna do shit for someone who won’t even buy me a ring.”</p><p>He still doesn’t mean it, not quite. They’ve never really talked about marriage. It’s always been a given, to Louis, that it’s going to happen at some point, but considering it took them ten years to actually talk about their feelings, not having the marriage chat over this last year isn’t really surprising. And he’s not actually trying to have it now – at some point is still good enough for him at the moment – but riling Harry up has always been his specialty.</p><p>“You want a ring?” Harry asks, glancing down at his hands. “You can take your pick of ‘em, but you gotta come here to get it.”</p><p>Well. Louis licks his bottom lip, considering. “Gonna take it with me when I leave,” he warns. If Harry wants to give him a ring, who is Louis to say no?</p><p>“You gonna promise to wear it, too?” Harry asks, raising a challenging eyebrow. “All the time, when you’re out in public, where anyone can see you?”</p><p>Louis’ slither off the couch is less graceful than he would have liked, and the floor makes a hard impact against his knees. Still, he makes his way over to Harry, wriggling his arse a lot more than necessary, and climbs into his lap. “Wear it all the time,” he whispers, linking his arms around Harry’s neck. “You think it’s any different than paps catching you all over me and selling the photos to the tabloids the next day?”</p><p>He can feel Harry’s cock pressing up against his arse, hard and demanding. Harry’s holding his hips tight, keeping him in place, and Louis is honestly surprised that Harry hasn’t snapped yet. If his tendency is to put Louis between him and a hard surface at the best of times, he’s way, <i>way</i> worse when he’s turned on.</p><p>“It is different,” Harry says, dragging his mouth down the column of Louis’ throat, leaving a trail of saliva in his wake. “People’re gonna think we had to have a shotgun wedding because I knocked you up.”</p><p>Louis’ laugh is short and breathless. He grinds down in Harry’s lap, chasing the feeling of his cock against his arse. “Want me to confirm it when they ask?”</p><p>“No,” Harry groans against his throat, slapping at Louis’ arse with one hand, trying to lift him up with the other. “C’mon, take these off.”</p><p>Louis’ obedience is less of a decision and more of an automatic reaction. He rises up onto his knees, letting Harry yank his trackies down. “Thought you had dreams about it after a few too many espressos.”</p><p>He clutches at Harry’s shoulders, lets him figure out how to get the trackies off without tipping them over, kicking obligingly when each leg reaches his foot until they’re off, presumably tangled on the floor behind him somewhere. Sinks back down onto Harry’s lap half-naked. Harry’s trousers feel good against his bare skin, the material smooth and warm.</p><p>“Is there a reason you keep talking about marriage and pregnancy tonight?” Harry asks, fingers ghosting over the head of Louis’ cock, not quite touching. “Did I forget that it’s my birthday or something?”</p><p>Please. For his birthday Louis’ gonna bring back those awful red trousers and the braces from their youth. Harry never got a chance to fuck him in that outfit, and it’s something Louis wouldn’t be caught dead in now. Under normal circumstances, at least.</p><p>“No,” Louis says, shaping his mouth the way that always gets Harry to kiss him. “Can’t I just be nice to you for no reason?”</p><p>“Not in my experience,” Harry says, splaying a hand out on Louis’ back and tugging him in to kiss him. Louis squawks into the kiss, partway to actually being offended until Harry rubs two fingers against his hole, still open and a little sore from earlier.</p><p>He can’t stop himself from making noises, pushing down against Harry’s fingers hungrily until they start to sink into him, his entire chest lighting up at the feeling.</p><p>“Don’t do that,” Harry murmurs into his mouth mildly, pulling his fingers back. “You’re gonna hurt yourself trying to take them dry like that.”</p><p><i>He’s</i> the one who put them there. He can’t go rubbing his fingers against Louis’ hole and not expect him to try to get them inside.</p><p>“’Sides, you’re gonna be a good boy for me first and get on your knees, yeah?” Harry continues. His voice has gone deep and gravelly again. It makes Louis shiver, hole going tight around nothing, even as he shakes his head.</p><p>“Let you put your cock in my mouth this morning.”</p><p>He hadn’t let Harry do it so much as he’d woken up with the desire to get his throat fucked, and then set about getting that desire fulfilled.</p><p>“Yeah, baby, you did,” Harry agrees. “Perfect boy putting his perfect mouth on me, letting me use his throat until I got off. I remember. I also remember licking you out until you cried, after.”</p><p>Louis wants to touch his cock so badly he can practically feel it under his fingers. “You’re the one who wouldn’t let me come for so long,” he argues weakly. “Of course I cried.”</p><p>It’s not Harry’s usual M.O., not letting him come. Normally Harry actively tries to make Louis come as many times as he can. Waking him up with a blowjob put him in a rare kind of mood, apparently. Which, it turns out, is a good thing, because Louis hadn’t been able to let him go for five hours afterwards. Harry ended up having to shuffle them to the loo together so he could take a piss.</p><p>“Are you complaining?” Harry asks, pinching at Louis’ bottom lip, tugging his mouth open so he can lick inside. With his mouth full of Harry’s tongue, Louis can’t answer. He quickly forgets there was even a question in the first place, getting kissed by the love of his life backstage at a show.</p><p>Christ. The early morning sex must have made him sappier than normal. That’s the only excuse Louis has.</p><p>“Well?” Harry asks, pulling away after a few minutes. Louis blinks at him dreamily, breathless and feeling loved.</p><p>“I love you,” he says. He’s pretty sure it’s the right answer.</p><p>Harry’s laugh is short and sweet. Louis touches his mouth with two fingers, tracing the shape of it. “Did you smoke without me? I’m not sure if I should be offended or not.”</p><p>“You absolutely should,” Louis assures him. “Considering that I only smoked to get rid of the image of your ugly face in my head.”</p><p>Harry rolls his eyes, fingers flexing against Louis’ bare back. He sounds a little more impatient as he says, “I could do without the insults, baby. Get on your knees.”</p><p>He must have a concussion or something if he thinks Louis isn’t going to insult him whenever he feels like it. Louis has a special bond with insults, and he’s not giving them up for the likes of Harry. Not even if Harry <i>is</i> the love of his life.</p><p>Following his orders would be a surefire way to get this show on the road. Louis doesn’t know how much longer they’ve got before they literally have to get on the road, but it’s not like they have all night. They’re working on a schedule, here.</p><p>Knowing that doesn’t change the fact that Louis is stubborn and wanting to prove it, though. So he says, “Make me,” knowing that it’s going to get him at least a handful of harsh, perfectly placed smacks against his bare arse. He’s expecting it. Waiting for it. Equal parts anxious for it and craving it.</p><p>It’s a shock when all Harry does is tap at his hip twice. <i>Tap tap</i>. It doesn’t hurt. Louis barely even feels it. He sits on Harry’s lap, staring at him, wondering what the fuck is going on. It’s not like he can’t still feel the hard demand of Harry’s cock pressing against him. As far as Louis can tell, neither of them have changed their minds about what they want.</p><p>“Get up,” Harry tells him. For a second, Louis thinks he says <i>get on your knees</i> again, but that’s probably only because that’s what he was expecting. It’s the unexpectedness of a differing command that has him actually doing what Harry says, shuffling up onto his knees and then up onto his feet when Harry keeps looking at him expectantly.</p><p>“What the hell, Harry,” Louis says, only starting to voice all of his complaints. All of his words die in his throat as Harry rearranges himself onto his knees.</p><p>Onto one knee, specifically. Louis can hear his heart hammering in his chest, the beat of it twice its normal rate. It’s not just the arousal making it so fast. Between them, they’re wearing enough clothes to be considered a full outfit, opposite halves of them bare, and it’s another thing that might be funny under other circumstances.</p><p>His words don’t come back to him as he watches Harry slide a ring off his finger, so slow there’s no mistaking what he’s doing. The silver of it shines in the harsh light of the dressing room, well-worn and a little tarnished. It wasn’t a particularly expensive piece of jewelry, that one, but it might be the one Harry’s had for the longest. The silence stretches on as Harry looks down at it, holding it between his thumb and his forefinger, turning it over a couple of times.</p><p>“I don’t remember where I got this one,” Harry says, still looking at the ring instead of Louis’ slightly panic-stricken face. “I don’t even remember whether I bought it for myself or if someone gave it to me. I’ve had it for a long time, baby, haven’t I?”</p><p>He pauses for a second, giving Louis just enough time to draw in a stilted breath, filling his lungs with air. “Worn it more often than not and I couldn’t even tell you why. Just like the way it looks, I guess.”</p><p>Reaching out, he takes Louis’ hand between his gently, finally looking up. His eyes are still that same level of fiery and intense, even as his face remains placid. God, his poker face has gotten so much better lately. </p><p>“Like the way it looks on you even more, though.”</p><p>Louis blinks, and Harry has slid the ring onto his finger. It feels like he still can’t manage to catch his breath, too many thoughts running through his brain to sort through.</p><p>“And you know,” Harry continues, drawing Louis’ attention away from the ring sitting heavily on his finger, “you <i>know</i> that one day I’m going to get down on my knee for you for real, but until then you can keep this as sort of a promise.”</p><p>All of Louis’ breath whooshes out of his lungs as he remembers how to breathe. He slaps his hands against Harry’s shoulders and shoves him back until he’s lying on the floor again, straddling his hips.</p><p>“Jesus, you’re a fucking wanker,” he complains with laughter bubbling up in his voice, slapping at Harry’s shoulders some more. He’s not expecting it when Harry catches his wrists and flips them over, even though he should be.</p><p>“And you were being a brat,” Harry says, pulling Louis’ arms up over his head and leaning down to kiss him. Louis tries to bite at his tongue, but gets distracted by how good he is at it. His arousal comes surging back in full force, even though it hadn’t been fully gone. They kiss for a long time, until Louis starts getting too impatient, pinned to the hard floor by the bulk of Harry’s body, and starts wiggling, trying to get him to do something. Anything.</p><p>Harry barely breaks the kiss to murmur words into Louis’ mouth. “Are you ready to get on your knees now?”</p><p>Louis finds himself nodding before he registers it, nails digging into Harry’s back. It’s not a lie, either. Harry always knows exactly how far to push him, always knows exactly how to make Louis stop resisting. Harry gives him another long, lingering kiss before he sits up, giving Louis just enough space to squirm out from underneath him.</p><p>There’s a heavy chair in the corner of the room. Harry drags it over with a loud screeching noise, bringing it to Louis so he won’t have to go to it. Louis watches him with hooded eyes, waiting. His chest feels hot with sweat, sticky. Absently, he claws his shirt off over his head, throwing it across the room carelessly. By the time he’s done, Harry has settled down into the chair, watching him appreciatively.</p><p>“Do you know what you are?” Harry asks, his voice deep and rough. </p><p>Already, Louis is starting to sink into the haze of it, settling onto his knees, arse resting against the backs of his calves. He puts his hands against Harry’s knees, rubbing at them through the silk of Harry’s trousers. He knows what it does to Louis when he’s still partially dressed and Louis isn’t, the bastard.</p><p>“A siren,” Louis answers, flicking his gaze up to Harry’s face, catching on the material straining over his crotch for a second along the way.</p><p>Harry’s mouth tugs at the corners, both fond and pleased. “The boy I write all the songs about. Every last goddamn one of them.”</p><p>God. Louis’ breath comes out of him again, this time in a soft, dreamy sigh. His hands are slow but sure as he gets Harry’s trousers open, flicking his thumb against the button of his pants until he can reach inside and pull Harry’s cock out. Predictably, Harry’s fully hard, wet at the tip and so gorgeous it would make Louis cry if he was the type to cry at the sight of a beautiful cock. Harry’s hand tangles in his hair, guiding him down as much as Louis is already sinking his mouth down over the head of it.</p><p>“Pretty boy,” Harry is murmuring, already talking even though Louis has barely started. Louis’ skin prickles with goosebumps, shivering at the heady drawl of it. If Harry talks slowly on a regular day, he drags out syllables like no tomorrow when Louis has got his mouth on his cock.</p><p>Louis listens with half an ear as he slides his way down, eyes fluttering closed and breathing through his nose. He’s only got a few inches in and his jaw is already starting to get sore, the kind of pain only this can give him. Harry’s cock is big and heavy against his tongue, hot as it throbs inside his mouth. Louis keeps going, arousal so thick in his belly it feels like it’s blistering.</p><p>“Couldn’t stop thinking about this onstage,” Harry continues, palming at the back of Louis’ head tenderly. It should be at odds with how hard he is, filling Louis’ mouth so much there’s no room left for anything else. “Kept picturing you on your knees for me, the soft fall of your hair because you know I like it when I can get my hands in there. Knew you’d be sweet and perfect because you always are, even when you’re not.”</p><p>The words barely make any sense. Louis melts into them anyway, sinking into that golden blissfulness he only reaches when he’s with Harry. He’s barely doing any of the work anymore, Harry’s hands still tender and strong as he moves Louis’ head up and down, fucking his mouth. The head of Harry’s cock bumps against the back of his throat, never going past even though it could. Even though Louis wants it to. He can take Harry all the way down, and he doesn’t know why Harry isn’t making him, just lets himself float through the fog of it.</p><p>Harry keeps talking, equal parts praise and filth. Louis only hears about a third of it, breathing through his nose, so turned on it feels like he’s the one getting blown right now. It doesn’t matter, though. He knows what Harry’s saying even when he can’t really hear it. <i>Pretty</i> and <i>good boy</i> and <i>I love you</i> and <i>baby</i> and that’s all that matters. That Harry loves him.</p><p>It stops before Louis is ready for it to, pulled all the way off by Harry’s strong hands. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, raw and wounded, eyes wet at the corners. Harry’s bending down to keep Louis from going after his cock on his own, mindless want rushing through his veins. He finds himself clutching at Harry’s shoulders before he knows what’s going on, being lowered to the floor quickly. His thighs spread on their own to give Harry space between them, hips arching up to try to find some friction.</p><p>“Baby,” Harry says. Louis chases the source of the noise, trying to get Harry to kiss him. It works, always does, and they’re kissing even as Louis feels the wet slide of two fingers entering him.</p><p>It’s almost too much too fast. The shock of it has him crying out, clutching at Harry’s shoulder as he eases them all the way inside, hurt bubbling up inside him in the way that never fails to make his cock drip.</p><p>“You’re fine,” Harry murmurs into his mouth. It’s not gentle and soothing. The words are lathered in command, in the year-long exploration of exactly how much Louis’ body can handle. He knows it better than Louis does, probably, how much he can take. How much he <i>wants</i> to take.</p><p>“Please,” Louis manages, the word already broken into pieces by his jagged throat. Saying the one word that could put a stop to this never comes to his mind. Harry has always been right about him, after all. “Please, H, I want – ”</p><p>He gets a third finger before he can finish asking for it, wet with lube as it opens him up. He has no idea when Harry got it, or if he had a package in his trousers the entire time. He probably did. It’s exactly like Harry to plan their sex life in great detail and leave most other things up to chance.</p><p>“You’ll get what I want to give you,” Harry says, his voice still full of steel. Louis squirms, pressing down on Harry’s fingers, trying to entice him into giving him what he needs.</p><p>It doesn’t work. Harry’s fingers slow, avoid his prostate altogether. Louis huffs, digging his nails into Harry’s bare back. The silk of Harry’s trousers feels so nice against the inside of his thighs, like a warm whisper of something to come. It might be why Harry left them on in the first place.</p><p>“Please,” Louis whispers again. He clenches down around Harry’s fingers, not nearly as full as he wants to be. It isn’t even intentional, that. “’m yours, H, please. Wanna be yours.”</p><p>Harry’s fingers come to a complete stop. There’s no mistaking the dimples in his cheeks, no matter how hard he tries to pull the corners of his lips down again. “You know how people tend to think that you get your way because you’re bossy?” he asks, conversational somehow, despite where his fingers are. Louis squeezes down around them again, trying to remind him.</p><p>“Want your cock,” Louis continues, voice wavering from how much effort it’s taking to keep his head straight, to ask for the things he wants. Harry always gives him the things he wants when he asks for them. Always. “Want you to come in me, mark me up, get me all full and wet inside.”</p><p>“It’s not,” Harry says, voice heavy with arousal and something that might be devotion. Louis’ too sex-stupid to tell. “It’s because you always know exactly how to ask for something to get your way.”</p><p>He doesn’t sound displeased about it. Louis’ breath catches in his throat as Harry pulls his fingers out, so quick it’s almost a yank. He goes where Harry puts him, turned over onto his hands and knees, head buried in his arms. He can’t get his breath back as Harry starts pushing in, cock thick and perfect and everything Louis wants.</p><p>“Oh my god,” Louis chokes out on what little air he has left in his lungs, getting filled with inch after inch of cock so good it’s like it was made for him. His head spins, thighs trembling as he struggles to support his own weight. It feels like it’s been a lifetime since they last did this. It hasn’t even been a full day.</p><p>“Yes, sweetheart,” Harry says, all the way in now and starting to set up a bruising, unforgiving rhythm. Louis’ eyes threaten to roll back in his head from how good it feels. “You’re mine, and you’re always going to be mine, yeah?”</p><p>It sounds like a question, but it’s not. Not really. Because Harry knows the answer, has known the answer for eleven years. It doesn’t matter how long it took them to get to this point in the face of all that history.</p><p>“Yes,” Louis gasps, pressing his mouth against his arm and slurring the words out around his skin. “Yes, ‘m yours, always – ”</p><p>Again, he loses his breath, clawing at the tile floor with his fingernails as Harry fucks him harder, slamming into him and hitting his prostate with every stroke. It’s a pace that rattles through Louis’ body, electricity zinging through every atom. He’s going to come. Just from this.</p><p>“You are,” Harry tells him, voice rough, hands like bruises against Louis’ hips. He’s holding onto him, picking up the slack as Louis’ muscles get weaker with every passing second, preventing him from sliding down onto the floor. Louis’ belly trembles from it, from the strength in those hands. From the knowledge that he’s wearing Harry’s ring on his finger. It’s the wrong hand, his right one instead of his left, and he should have realized that earlier.</p><p>He’s barely thinking as he shifts to hold up his weight with one arm, sliding the ring off his right hand and onto his left. He hears Harry groan as he watches him, fingers sinking into the flesh of Louis’ hips like a brand. There’s going to be marks there in the morning, and when Louis leaves him in a couple of days to go back to London he’ll touch them himself and dream about this exact moment. About how Harry sounded when he saw his ring on Louis’ finger. On the right finger.</p><p>“Love of my goddamn life,” Harry continues, like it’s the same thought. As though being in love and Louis being his go together so perfectly he can’t even separate them in his own mind anymore.</p><p>Louis’ entire body thrills at the thought of it. He has to touch himself, has to curl his fingers around his cock and stroke himself unevenly. He could come without, <i>has</i> come without, but he wants to come now, wants the sweet relief of an orgasm so good it’ll curl his toes.</p><p>“Please,” he whispers, so soft he can’t even hear himself, closing his eyes as he pulls himself off, pleasure coiling through his entire body at all the sensations. He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for anymore, doesn’t know if he’s asking for anything at all. He’s got everything he wants.</p><p>“Yes, baby,” Harry says, answering like he’s heard Louis despite the lack of breath in his lungs. “C’mon, want you to come for me. You can do that, sweetheart, right? Come for me.”</p><p>It’s not a question anymore. Louis’ chest shakes, sucking in precious air as he obeys the command. His eyes slip closed, red spots dancing behind his eyelids. He loses it for a bit, sinking into a fine golden mist and floating through it. His entire body feels warm and languid, accepting and trusting of whatever Harry wants to do to him. No matter what, Harry will always take care of him. He knows that, and that’s all he has to know.</p><p>Harry’s still talking when he comes a minute or two later, pressed up tight to Louis’ back as he does, an arm looped around his belly now. There’s no way Louis could get out of it without seriously struggling, and it makes him feel small and safe. He breathes against his own arm, swimming slowly towards the surface. When he blinks his eyes open again, Harry is still inside him, slowly starting to go soft. Everything is still golden and fuzzy around the edges.</p><p>“Strong wasn’t the first song I wrote about you,” Louis murmurs.</p><p>Harry’s unwinding himself, putting a warm, heavy hand against the small of Louis’ back as he eases himself out, slow and careful because he’s always scared of hurting Louis afterwards. Especially when Louis is like this, too fucked out and languid to tell what really hurts anymore.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>The world spins as Harry flips him over. He’s still slow and careful about it, hands cradling the back of Louis’ head and under his back, settling him down against the floor. The tile is warm underneath Louis’ back now. Or maybe his back is just warm.</p><p>“It was a song that never made it onto an album. Never even showed it to anyone, that’s how shitty it was.”</p><p>There’s dimples in Harry’s cheeks again. Louis reaches out to touch them with fingers that are still trembling. Predictably, Harry catches his hand before he ever makes contact, kissing the tips of Louis’ fingers before pressing them to his chest. “Will you show it to me?”</p><p>The world has mostly stopped spinning now. Louis feels good, warm and cozy and loved. In love in return. It’s going to take him a while to fully emerge from his haze, but he knows what he’s doing when he says, “Absolutely not. The last thing I need is you knowing all those things.”</p><p>The smile doesn’t fade from Harry’s face as he mouths, “Brat,” at Louis as he leans down to kiss him again, tender and – well, everything. It’s everything, that kiss.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A while later, after Louis’ head has cleared and Harry has put one of his shirts on Louis, leaving him mostly covered but still plenty nude, and moved them to the couch, Louis has to check. Just to be sure.</p><p>“That wasn’t a real proposal, right?”</p><p>He can feel the beat of Harry’s heart underneath his ear, strong and steady. It’s a comforting, familiar noise that could lull Louis to sleep. It has plenty of times in the past.</p><p>“No,” Harry says, picking up Louis’ hand and bringing it up to his mouth to kiss the back of it, the one with his ring on it. Louis’ left hand. “Trust me, you’ll know when it’s the real proposal, baby.”</p><p>Louis stays quiet for a minute, listening to that steady beat. It hasn’t changed any with Harry’s words. Not that Louis was expecting it to. “We haven’t talked about it, you know. Marriage.”</p><p>“Mmhmm,” Harry agrees, slow and languid. He sounds like he could fall asleep at any second. “I would’ve married you at sixteen if I could’ve. Not much has changed since then.”</p><p>God. How disgustingly sappy. Louis struggles up onto an elbow so he can look down at Harry’s face, see the way he’s looking up at him. That stupidly perfect face with the dimples and the hair. Ugh. Louis is going to have to marry him.</p><p>“You know I’m difficult,” Louis says, just to make sure.</p><p>“God, yeah,” Harry sighs, squeezing Louis’ arse lightly. “Always turns me on.”</p><p>Louis scrunches up his face, trying to hide his smile. “Why haven’t you talked about it before, then?” he demands. He’s not serious, not after hearing the words <i>would’ve married you already</i> come out of Harry’s mouth.</p><p>Harry raises his eyebrows, mild expression on his face. “Still waiting for that album about the way I fuck, aren’t I.”</p><p>There’s exactly five pillows on this rather plush couch. Louis grabs the first one he can find and hits Harry in the face with it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Even later, after they’ve got the final knock on the door, the one that says <i>we have to leave RIGHT NOW</i>, Louis makes Harry give him a piggyback ride all the way to the bus. He can still smell the scent of sex on himself, in Harry’s hair when he presses his nose to it. Harry puts him in his bunk, shoving him all the way over so there’ll be room left for him, and disappears back out into the hallway.</p><p>Louis toys with the ring still sitting prettily on his finger as he waits for Harry to come back. He does so a few minutes later cradling two steaming mugs of tea, handing them both to Louis before he gets into the bunk and draws the curtain closed.</p><p>Louis drinks about half of one before he says, “Love of your goddamn life, huh?”</p><p>“The one and only,” Harry confirms, looking at Louis over the rim of his own mug. With the last dredges of his come still tucked up safe inside Louis’ body, worn out and well-fucked, Louis feels at home. </p><p>“You’re mine, too,” Louis confesses on a whisper, even though he’s said it a thousand times before.</p><p>Harry’s smile glints in the low light of the bunk. “I know,” he says, smug and self-satisfied.</p><p>This time, Louis doesn’t hit him with a pillow. He lets Harry press him down against the thin mattress and kiss him until their eyes are too heavy to keep open anymore.</p><p>Love of his goddamn life indeed.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Even later than that, Louis gets on a plane back to London with Harry’s ring still on his finger. He’s switched it to his right hand, and he didn’t ask for permission before leaving with it.</p><p>Harry doesn’t realize it’s gone for a week. Or maybe he just doesn’t bother calling Louis out on it until then. Either way, Harry gave it to him, and Louis plans to keep it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
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